


it must be good

by whiskerprince



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Florida, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Art Museum Meet...Cute?, Boston Market, Boys Being Boys (Silly), Brother Feels, First Dates, Holding Hands, Insecurity, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, author accidentally interjects their knowledge of fiddler crabs into the plot, slight coming of age theme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 10:02:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whiskerprince/pseuds/whiskerprince
Summary: Just me, the hottie, and the two birds having sex between us,Jisung thinks miserably.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, small jaebri feature
Comments: 64
Kudos: 431
Collections: MINSUNG BINGO: Round One





	it must be good

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to justin mcelroy of my brother, my brother, and me for the munchsquad about the boston market valentine's day baby back ribs bouquet. that is the sole inspiration for this fic.
> 
> i've started my minsung bingo *checks calendar* 6 weeks before it's due. hoo boy. let's go. 
> 
> tropes: strangers to lovers / first dates / holidays / holding hands  
> all minsung bingo fills can also be found on [the official twitter](https://www.twitter.com/minsungbingo)!

Jisung is...lost.

Perhaps a more accurate statement would be that Jisung had succumbed to the hubris of his own cleverness. The plan was simple: beg for a bathroom break, escape from the tour group, chew a couple mints leaning up against the sink and avoiding eye contact with other patrons of the museum, and then sneak out later to see the Ben Quilty exhibition that the class tour so tastelessly skipped over in favor of yet another Italian Renaissance collection. "Loans from Galleria dell'Accademia in Florence" and a "once in a lifetime opportunity"...hooty fucking hoo, more chubby cherubs butts to ogle. Jisung is on a mission.

The mission included returning with his tail firmly tucked between his legs, begging ignorance and a poor sense of direction that got him lost after taking his time with the Quilty paintings. The mission did not include actually getting lost.

Well, for better or worse, he is back in the realm of cheeked up Renaissance babes and some of the ugliest animals ever depicted by paint strokes, so it's only a matter of time before he runs into the rest of his class. He'll have to coerce Mark into driving him back to the museum under the guise of brotherly bonding time. Brian has the car this weekend and ever since he got a new job he's been immune to bribes. Besides, Mark will probably pay for lunch.

Away from the dull roar of high schoolers being herded from room to room, the art museum becomes quiet and introspective. The only other people milling throughout are retirees and tourists, chatting quietly only within earshot of their group. Despite his earlier misgivings, Jisung takes the time to slow down and take a look at some of the paintings. They aren't bad, Jisung doesn't really think they're bad, it's just that he's studied this period of art to death in AP Euro, and again in his art class, and now this field trip...he'd rather look at anything else, really.

He stops at a painting of Venus reclining elegantly on a low sofa. Beneath her, Cupid and his round cherubim buttocks are turned towards the viewer. The painter is Dutch, not Italian, but when Jisung checks the plaque, yep, there it is—studied in Venice. But it's a bit warmer than the other paintings he's seen so far, and more importantly, below Venus's extended hand, there are two doves stacked on top of each other, which, given the presence of both Venus and Cupid, can only mean one thing.

Jisung admires the boning doves with childish glee for a long moment before he realizes he's not the only one looking over the painting.

He's used to the respectful distance of strangers moving from painting to painting and pausing at his side to observe before moving on. This stranger has put a comfortable amount of distance between them as well, but it's the first time Jisung has been alone at a painting with one other person. He's uncomfortable, even more so with the knowledge that he has certainly been smirking at the doves for a tasteless amount of time. He swallows and lifts his eyes to the back of Venus's exposed neck, overly conscious of his body.

A cursory side eye tells him that his new companion is a young man close in age to Jisung. Jisung would have heard another tour group coming from a mile away, so this must be one of the wandering tourists. Jisung expects him to move on after a long, admiring moment, but the stranger stays put, engaging Jisung in a tense battle of chicken. Jisung could slink away and rejoin his tour group, chin tucked to his chest, but if he stayed a little longer, admired every corner of the painting carefully, perhaps he could trick this stranger into thinking he hadn't been staring at those doves for a crude, childish reason, and instead because he was just really passionate about—Jisung squints at the plaque—Lambert Sustris.

Jisung counts to forty in his head and still the stranger has not moved. Well. That's pretty freaky. There can't be two Lambert Sustris superfans in Tampa, Florida, in the Ringling Museum of Art, in front of this particular painting. Statistically it can't be possible. Which means this guy has got to be a real freak, like really weird—Jisung glances at him again—aw hell. Dammit, shit. He's actually really cute.

That's not right for a whole different reason. Cool, good-looking art lovers didn't actually exist. Not in art museums. Not at 10:39 AM on a Wednesday. Not in Tampa. No one under the age of sixty came to an art museum before lunch dressed in a cream turtleneck and warm beige trenchcoat. Is that a dangling earring? Jisung is going to kill himself.

 _Just me, the hottie, and the two birds having sex between us,_ Jisung thinks miserably. Hottie would probably look at this painting for hours on end. He probably knew the actual art movement Lambert Sustris had been a part of. He might know brush techniques and compositional theory and the context of art in—Jisung checks the plaque for the third time—1560. Hottie might use words such as "making love" when talking about the two doves in the painting—and he'd do it without sounding cringe. The background chatter of other patrons has died down and suddenly Jisung feels completely alone in the world with this stranger. Suddenly he's dying to know his perspective on Venus and Cupid.

For better or worse, Jisung's mouth is faster than his brain. "Pretty cool," he says, clearing his throat slightly. Unsurprisingly, the stranger does not rise to that pathetic excuse for conversational bait.

"I mean, Lambert Sustris, what a guy, right?" Jisung babbles. "To go to Venice all the way from the Netherlands just to study art...like, what if he didn't know Italian at all? I can't imagine studying abroad before Google Translate. What if he had to pee but didn't know how to say bathroom in Italian?"

"There's universal body language for that," the stranger says.

...Okay, interesting bait to rise to, but Jisung's got him hooked. All he has to do is reel him in.

"Oh yeah, good point," he says. "Do you think they had live models posing that they could paint? Or at least study? I don't know about you, but if I don't have a reference my brain just kind of...poof! I'd end up painting her hands on backwards or swapping elbows and knees, some sort of catastrophe." _What do you think about the doves_. "Although if he used live models I guess that makes Cupid kind of weird, huh? He's just a little kid." _What do you think about the doves_. "It'd be pretty fucked up, even then, to make some chubby baby pose for your painting. You can't even pay them." _What do you think about the doves. What do you think about the doves_.

The stranger sniffs. "It has to be from life," he says.

Jisung looks at him fully, swallowing.

"I mean." The stranger scratches his nose. "If I were painting a butt from my imagination, I wouldn't make it look like that. It'd be more," he mimes cupping a peach shape, "like that. Way better. Waste of paint otherwise." He turns to Jisung. "There much more choice butts in the statue garden. Spherical, you know? Though not much hope for boobs." He waves a hand dismissively. "These Renaissance or whatever guys must never have held a boob in their life. They don't get boob physics."

"Right," Jisung says, winded like he'd just run a hundred-meter race. "Right, you're so...right."

"Wanna see my tattoo?" The stranger asks, already rolling up his sleeve.

"Uh, sure," Jisung says. He shuffles closer to him but leaves a generous gap; half wigged out, half impressed by this guy's shameless strangeness.

The stranger rolls his sleeve past his elbow and Jisung makes a strangled noise when the tattoo is fully exposed.

"The boning doves?" He exclaims. "Is that real?"

"It's real," the stranger confirms. "I came to the opening of this exhibition and the moment I saw this painting I thought oh, I have to have that." He examines his upper arm. "I think my artist did a pretty good job."

"It's an exact replica!" Jisung exclaims, delighted. "Did you come by just to check the accuracy?"

"Yeah," he says. His lips curl at the edges into a catlike grin.

"Do you live around here then?" Jisung asks. "I thought you were a tourist at first. You look pretty fancy."

"Close-ish," the stranger says. "I go to USF but I'm a member of the Ringling."

A college student. Jisung suddenly feels hyper aware of the lanyard around his neck and his student ID encased in plastic, the logo for the Sarasota High School Swamp Cats in jarring green and gold a badge that might as well scream, _"I'M A SHITTY LITTLE KID!"_

"That's cool," Jisung says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I'm a senior at Sarasota High, I don't know if you went to school around here or..."

"Oh, I'm from out-of-state," the stranger says.

"Oh," Jisung says. Is the stranger's smile becoming more pitying, or is Jisung imagining things?

"I'm Jisung, by the way," Jisung says. "I guess I'll have to check out the statue garden next time. Gotta catch up with my tour group." Might as well shoot himself in the foot.

"I'm Minho," Minho says. "Thanks for not thinking my tattoo is weird."

"No way!" Jisung says, laughing. "It's the coolest! Are you a Lambert Sustris fan?" He gestures at the painting. "Or do you like...know a lot about him...?"

"Not a fucking thing," Minho says.

Jisung laughs again, this time loud enough to disturb the other patrons and he has to cover his mouth, avoiding disapproving eyes in favor of Minho's crinkled eyes and smirk. "Sorry, sorry," Jisung says as Minho reaches into one of his pockets. He pulls out a crumpled Dunkin Donuts receipt and a marker pen and scribbles something on the receipt.

"You're weird," Minho says cheerfully, handing the receipt to Jisung.

"Thank you...?"

"Lose the tour," Minho says, tucking his hands into the pockets of his coat. "Butts are worth it."

He turns on his heel without another word and walks confidently out of the room. Jisung considers chasing after him, but the labyrinth of halls and doorways and rooms would surely ensnare him long before he could catch up to Minho. He looks down at the receipt. The ten-digit number is both a surprise and not a surprise at all. Jisung looks up and sees a sign for the statue garden.

He loses the tour.

\---XXX---

Brian reaches over the gearshift to sock Jisung in the arm. "Hey, asshole."

"Ow!" Jisung yelps, rubbing his arm with a scowl. "The hell was that for?"

Brian shrugs and Jisung scowls harder. He gets in and slams the car door. _Brothers_.

"Don't hit me," Jisung grouches.

"Why? Will it mess up your look?"

" _No_ ," Jisung says quickly. "What look? I'm dressed normal."

"I could smell your hair stuff from all the way down the driveway. And you're wearing earrings again. And I've never seen that jacket in my life."

"I wear this stuff," Jisung defends. "I got these earrings from Amber."

Brian nods thoughtfully as he pulls out of their neighborhood. "So you're going on a date with Amber?"

Jisung groans and presses his face into his hands. "No, I am not going on a date with Amber. I am not going on a date with anyone."

"Okay, okay." Brian says, holding up a hand to pacify Jisung. "Not going on a date. No date. Just a little drive, thirty minutes, into the city. To meet with someone. Who you won't tell me about. At a restaurant. On Valentine's Day."

Jisung smacks his head back against the seat rest and slumps against the window, groaning louder.

Alright, sure—from Brian's perspective, it seems suspiciously date-like. But Jisung isn't lying. In no official capacity is this a date. The word 'date' was never once used over text. And Jisung isn't daring enough to assume anything at all on Minho's part. They are just two guy friends going for a little singles hang out on Valentine's Day. Completely platonic; no subtextual implications here, folks!

Honestly, Jisung would be suspicious Minho was playing him if he'd invited Jisung out to a proper restaurant, but it's a Boston Market. For crying out loud.

"Why," Jisung despairs. "I haven't set foot in a Boston Market my entire eighteen years of life and at this point I'm afraid to. What kind of food do they even eat in Boston?"

 _"Dude,"_ Minho says, _"you're not listening. Twenty ribs, two sides each, and drinks for twenty dollars? They are bleeding cash on this deal and it would be stupid to miss out."_

(They're on the phone. Minho has expressed his disdain for texting through a combination of hour-long gaps between texts and one-word responses. Jisung had been apprehensive about calling the cool college boy he ditched his class for after such a tepid response to his texts, but Minho is a chatterbox on the phone. He can talk for hours about absolutely nothing and fills Jisung's occasional awkward silences with nonsense questions and play-by-play anecdotes from his daily life.)

Jisung rolls onto his back. Really, what's he going to do; say no? It's been two weeks since the art museum field trip and he hasn't seen Minho since. With Mark in town even Brian couldn't sneak off so easily to band practice; there was no way Jisung could swing the car to visit someone his parents had never met. Besides...Jisung's art teacher went to Wednesday night poker night with Jisung's dad and presumably he had blabbed about Jisung's delinquency on the field trip, resulting in Jisung's car privileges suspended for a month.

He informs Minho of this. "I'm not allowed to drive for a month. How would I even get there?"

Minho hums on the other side of the line. _"Well, I have evening class so I couldn't pick you up, but if you can get a ride there, I can drop you home."_

Jisung envisions his mom hovering by the front door, arms crossed, and mentally screams ' _NO_ ' with every fiber of his being. "I have a curfew. And I can't go drinking or clubbing or whatever."

 _"I don't drink,"_ Minho tells him. _"And my bedtime is 10PM."_

Jisung huffs. "Isn't it kind of lame for a college student to have a bedtime?"

Minho makes a non-committal noise. _"So, will you bribe your brother or not? I'll buy him a dessert or something, if that helps."_

"Fine," Jisung says. "But you can't drop me off. I'll have to talk Brian into driving. My parents will throw a tantrum if they find out I'm hanging out with a guy they don't know."

 _"Cool,"_ Minho agrees. _"How's Thursday for you?"_

"Whenever's fine," Jisung says. He pulls up a calendar on his phone just in case the date jogs his memory. His eyes bug out. "Wait, hold on. That's the fourteenth."

 _"Yeah, that's when the special is on,"_ Minho says. _"Do you have plans already?"_

Jisung gapes. "That's—that's Valentine's Day."

 _"Yeah,"_ Minho says. _"It's a couple deal. Did I forget to mention that?"_

"We aren't a couple!"

_"They don't know that."_

"But..." Jisung trails off. "But what if someone assumes..." _What if someone assumes we're dating? Won't that be terrible for your reputation? A cool guy like you with a scrawny loser like me?_ "...I mean, it doesn't bother you at all?"

 _"Not really,"_ Minho says.

"Oh." Jisung deflates. "Well, I guess if you don't care then it's fine."

 _"Awesome,"_ Minho says. _"I'll see you on Thursday, then."_

And that was it.

"Minho said he'll buy you something to eat since you're driving me," Jisung says after a long moment. He's still slumped against the window, watching cars pass on the other side of the highway. It's the first time he's mentioned Minho by name to any of his family members.

"Sweet," Brian says. "No pressure though. Jae and I are going to dinner before we hit The Strip, but hey, if I can get two free meals out of it..."

Jisung glances back at Brian. "I thought the whole band was going out tonight?"

"Nope," Brian says, popping his lips around the 'p' sound.

Jisung doesn't say anything for a moment. And then, "Minho goes to USF. He's a sophomore."

"Well, I kind of figured it was someone in college," Brian says. "You wouldn't stress break out over another high school senior." Jisung slaps his cheeks and Brian swats at him one-handedly. "Don't pick. It's not visible yet. We have the same skin type though, bro, I can tell it's one of those under-the-skin ones."

"Ugh, whatever," Jisung says. He squints at Brian. "I thought you'd freak out if I told you."

"What, like Mom?" Brian shrugs one shoulder. "Jae is older."

"One year older."

"So? Besides, I trust your judgment. You're not going to meet up with some creep. Do you feel weird about Minho?"

"No," Jisung mumbles. "He's really cool."

"Then it's fine," Brian says. "He's meeting you in a public place, he's respecting your curfew, he knows I'm going to be driving you home, and he even offered to pick me up food for my troubles. Seems like a pretty good guy to me."

"I really..." Jisung swallows. "I really want to be his friend."

"If he's worth being friends with in the first place he'll see that you're cool and want to be your friend, too," Brian says.

Jisung pulls a face and makes a retching noise. "Bleh. Why'd you have to say something that cheesy? You don't think I'm cool."

"What? Of course I do."

"You always call me 'asshole' and 'twerp.'"

"Yeah," Brian says. "That's because you're my shitty little brother. But I still think you're really cool and worth hanging out with. Do you think I'd let you sit in on band practice and recordings if I didn't like you?"

Jisung swallows. "I guess not."

"Exactly. He must like you at least a little bit to invite you out to eat. If you're so worried that you're too much of a loser for him, why don't you just ask why he wanted to hang out?"

\---XXX---

Ask Minho why he wanted to hang out with Jisung? Forget it. Brian is crazy after all. Minho probably asked all his other college friends and when they said they were busy he decided maybe he could tolerate Jisung's presence enough to get a meal with him. That's all. Jisung doesn't even need to ask.

He marches into Boston Market with grim determination. No matter the reason Minho asked him to hang out, he will make the most of it. His resolve melts the moment he is summoned over to Minho's table in the corner with a wave and he lays eyes on Minho in an oversized tee and skinny jeans, earbuds still looped around his neck. He looks so normal, which only makes him even harder to look at.

"Did you run here?" Jisung asks, gesturing at the earphones.

"Hi," Minho greets. "No, I was just bored during lecture. I was listening to a DnD podcast."

"Hi," Jisung returns. "You're really weird."

"Yeah," Minho says. "Can we order? I keep smelling meat and it's making me crazy."

"God, please," Jisung says, collapsing into the booth across from Minho. "I'm starving."

Jisung is nervous through Minho placing their order, but true to his word he doesn't once flinch at the words 'Valentine's Day special.'

"The couple one?" Their waiter asks.

"Yeah, the ribs," Minho says. Turning to Jisung he asks, "What sides do you want? The macaroni is bomb."

They're the only male-male couple in the restaurant. Jisung's not worried about people staring this close to the university, but overdressed in his new jacket and earrings, especially next to Minho's casual handsomeness, he feels like he sticks out like a sore thumb. The awkwardness makes words catch in his throat and he bounces his leg under the table.

"Did I ever tell you how I got banned from the on-campus pool?" Minho asks.

"Huh?" Jisung says. "You what?"

"Okay, just warning you, it's a really long story," Minho says. He props his elbows up on the table, using his hands to gesture. "So I hate swimming, like, even recreationally, all I can think about is how many people have peed in the water, but I was on some stupid Paleo diet and exercise routine and the dance studios were closed for renovation so I thought, why not? Anyway, I had a low grade fever that whole week and I was super confused all the time and..."

He launches into a highly detailed recollection of the time he stumbled into the women's locker rooms, somehow missing the two women changing in there in his feverish haze, stripped down to nothing, and took a shower hollering to 2PM and scaring the girls who came in from the gym half to death. He talks until Jisung's leg stops jiggling and the tension leaves his shoulders. He talks until Jisung is able to make timely comments on the story and even input a few of his own experiences. Their food arrives in the middle of a tangent about the time Minho accidentally killed his entire Gen Bio group's worms for that week's lab.

Minho cuts himself off mid-word to thank the waiter and immediately stuff a giant spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth. Jisung follows suit, going straight for the ribs that were sure to coat him in sauce up to the elbows before the end of the night. They say nothing for a full five minutes until the initial hunger pains have been sated.

"So," Minho says, wiping his mouth. "Are you done being weird around me?"

"What?" Jisung says, heart thumping. "I'm not doing—being weird around you. I'm fine."

Minho sucks some barbecue sauce off his pinky. "No, you were totally being weird. You could barely look me in the eye when you got here."

"That's..." Jisung can't exactly say that Minho is an intimidating level of handsome. That'd be weird to say. Right?

"Honestly, at first I thought you were a homophobe," Minho says casually.

Jisung chokes on his sip of soda. "N-no! Not at all! My—uh, well—my brother is gay. Probably. I think." He sinks down in the booth. "I don't know."

"You're nervous," Minho deduces.

"I guess," Jisung mumbles. "It's stupid. Sorry I made you think I hate gay people."

"I don't think so anymore, just at first," Minho assures him. "You were watching the waiter's reaction when I ordered, so then I thought maybe you weren't out. In any case, I'm sorry I put you on the spot like that."

"I'm not—I'm not..." Jisung trails off. Is it homophobic to say you're not gay? Better play it safe just in case. "It's fine, I don't care."

"You do care though," Minho says.

Jisung's face heats up. "No—I just mean—just—it's fine. I thought it might be weird for you to imply you were—uh." He stumbles on his words, heat spreading to his ears. "On a date? With me? 'Cause you're like...really cool or whatever..."

Minho blinks. "Oh." He looks thoughtful for a moment. "I don't mind."

Hello? Hello? He doesn't mind? Doesn't mind that it looks like he's on a date with Jisung? Han Jisung?

"Need a top-up?" Minho asks, nodding at Jisung's styrofoam cup.

"Oh, sure," Jisung says, handing the cup to Minho. "Dr. Pepper and ice, please."

Jisung watches Minho make his drink and tries not to explode from the questions pounding in his head.

"Thanks," he says, accepting his drink from Minho. He takes a sip, then can't take it anymore. "So—hold on. Is this—are we on a date right now?"

Minho slurps his half-Powerade, half-Sprite noisily through a straw. He raises an eyebrow at Jisung.

"Sorry that's probably..." Jisung trails off. Presumptuous? Is it? "Nevermind."

"I don't know how to answer that," Minho says.

"No, it's fine," Jisung says. "I think I'm still really nervous. You're the first new friend I've made in years."

Minho hums thoughtfully. "It's alright if you're nervous, but you don't have to be. You like tattoos, and butts, and great meal deals. That's all any friendship needs to start, really." He pilfers a fry from Jisung's plate. "As long as you're comfortable and I'm comfortable and we're having fun."

Jisung lets a little more tension out of his body. "Yeah. You're right." He grins. "So are you going to help me pick my first tattoo, or...?"

Minho places a hand over his heart. "I would be honored to assist you in your rite of passage to manhood."

Later, when Brian comes by to pick Jisung up, Jisung has the joy of watching Minho hand a mystified Brian a bouquet of ten baby back ribs wrapped in butcher paper before he can open his mouth to introduce himself.

\---XXX---

" _I'm going to the beach to collect fiddler crabs for AP Bio on Friday_ ," Jisung writes Minho the next week. " _Low tide is in the evening so it'll be after your classes. Wanna come?_ "

Two hours later, Minho replies simply, " _Sure_."

Jisung lives close enough to the beach to bike, so he throws a plastic bugbox and a towel in his backpack, slings it over his back, and heads out. He's locking up his bike when Minho's car pulls into the lot. Jisung waves him over. "Hey, good timing."

"Traffic wasn't that bad," Minho says by way of greeting. He's in obnoxiously bright board shorts and a white tank, sunglasses perched on his nose even with the sun starting to sink down the horizon. Jisung smiles at him and is eighty-eight percent sure it doesn't look like a grimace.

"Ready to catch some crabs?" Jisung asks, holding up his bugbox.

"Naturally," Minho says, miming cracking his fingers.

Fiddler crabs tend to cluster around mangroves which provide shelter from predatory shorebirds instead of the open beach. Jisung and Minho take off their sandals to wade through the loose, white sand of the Gulf Coast but almost immediately have to stuff their gritty feet back into sandals as they start to encounter the pointy knobs of mangrove roots rising straight out of the sand. Normally fiddler crabs are shy, but with the sheer mass of the colony out at low tide to feed, it's easy enough for Jisung and Minho to scoop up a few before they can scuttle back into their holes.

"Did you know fiddler crab species each have a unique waving mating dance?" Minho asks as Jisung dives for an especially large crab and gets sandy knees and palms for his efforts. Jisung looks up to see Minho letting one of the crabs run an infinite treadmill across his hands. Minho meets his eyes. "I learned about it in Gen Bio. They wave their big claw in a certain choreographed sequence and that's how females of their species identify them."

"So if they get performance anxiety the girls won't even know they're the right species?" Jisung asks. "That's rough. How do they learn the right sequence?"

Minho shrugs and drops the crab into Jisung's box. "Observation, I guess? It's probably a mixture of genetic inclination and observation. There's never a clear cut answer in biology."

"Don't tell that to Mrs. Honda," Jisung says. "She once marked me wrong on an entire written response question because I spelled the scientific name of the prairie vole wrong."

"Kind of reminds me of art, to be honest," Minho says. "I mean, biology is just whatever people have managed to observe and make educated assumptions about. No one really knows anything for sure. And art is completely up to personal interpretation and value but people still try to classify and assign value to it anyway."

"That's...yeah." Jisung blinks. "No, you're right."

"And if you consider how some art movements were a big 'fuck you' to whatever was popular and prevalent at the time, it makes me think about how Linnaeus had that whole spiel about how each giraffe stretches its neck a little longer and passes that slightly longer neck on to its kid, and that's how we got giraffes, but then Darwin came back from the Galapagos and gave a big 'fuck you' to him with natural selection." Minho picks up a mangrove seed pod and hurls it into the ocean. "If you think about it like that, art is better than biology. Because at least we still value the steps it took to get from Lambert Sustris to Keith Haring instead of focusing on like, what's 'right,' even though it'll probably get overwritten in a couple hundred years."

Jisung stares at Minho. "What'd you say your major was again?"

Minho hurls another seed pod at the ocean. "Reveal your secrets, Neptune!"

"Why do you avoid some of the questions I ask you?" Jisung asks.

Minho pauses. He uses the seed pod he's holding to scratch the side of his nose. "I don't mean to avoid them," Minho says. "I just don't know why that information is important. Will knowing my major give you any insight into the person I am? Won't it just build some kind of stereotype in your mind about who I am or why I chose it? If I say Accounting, won't that make me seem extra deep or whatever that I can talk knowledgeably about art and science?"

Minho leans down to brush sand off his legs. "I just remember things I find interesting and I like to sit and think about stuff. I'm not anything special. I'm just me."

Jisung wraps his arms around his knees. "That makes sense, I guess. I never thought about it like that."

Minho extends a hand and after a moment, Jisung takes it and lets Minho pull him to his feet. "I like catching crabs with you," Minho says.

"I'm glad you came," Jisung says, managing a smile.

He scoops up some sand for the crabs in the bugbox and secures the lid, putting it back in his backpack. They pick their way out from the mangroves and take their shoes off again, scooting through the hard-packed sand until it squeaks. The sun is properly setting by now and they take a moment at the head of the sand path heading back to the parking lot to squint at it with a hand shading their eyes. There's a little twist tap of non-potable water at the edge of the parking lot for them to wash off the sand. Jisung is watching Minho run his sandals beneath the tap and brush sand out of his leg hair when he blurts out, "I think I like you."

Minho doesn't respond at first. He stuffs his now clean feet back into his sandals before he meets Jisung's eyes. "You think so?"

"Maybe?" Suddenly Jisung feels self-conscious. "I mean...I've had crushes on plenty of people and I even had a girlfriend back in sophomore year...but I don't know. You're the first person I'm actually, like, interested in. And want to know more about. Is that weird?"

Minho shakes his head. "No. I'm interested in you too."

"Oh." Jisung's heart thumps. "Um. Okay. Cool."

Minho drums his fingers on his thigh. "I haven't dated anyone before. I don't really know what to do, or how it should feel, dating someone."

"Really?" Jisung's brows shoot up. "But you're so...um, hot."

Minho smirks. "I do know that. But I don't exactly have a good personality."

Jisung shrugs. "It's not bad. Just different."

Minho's smirk softens into a genuine little smile. He holds out his hand once more. Jisung takes it.

His skin is damp and soft and his grip is stronger than Jisung expected. But there's a fullness to his palm and fingers that makes Jisung feel secure and comfortable. He thinks, suddenly, of Brian. That one time he couldn't find the Kewpie mayo and marched back to Jae's garage to ask where it was and he saw Brian with his fingers threaded through Jae's, ordering new guitar strings on Jae's phone and talking like nothing had changed. How their hands slid apart, practiced and easy, when Dowoon beat Jisung to it and Jae stood up to help him look. Jisung never told Brian that he saw, but he laid awake that night, wondering what it must feel like to be so at ease with someone that your fingers could slide together and apart like water.

Jisung wonders how many times he'd have to hold Minho's hand to keep from letting go jerkily, rubbing the back of his neck and unable to meet Minho's eyes. Probably a lot. But then again, maybe not. Minho is smiling down at their entwined fingers. He gives Jisung's hand a gentle squeeze. Jisung's palm is definitely sweatier, but he managed a weak squeeze back.

"You don't mind?" Jisung asks.

"I don't mind," Minho says.

**Author's Note:**

> notes:  
> 1\. aubrey if you're reading this i know ringling is in sarasota ok but no one on earth knows where sarasota is except other floridians  
> 2\. venus and cupid, 1560(ish), lambert sustris is a real painting and it fucks  
> 3\. please for the love of god google image search 'boston market ribs bouquet'


End file.
